


One Wild Night

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: Hermione Granger is on a mission! It’s a fairly simple mission. It really shouldn’t be that hard. People do it every day! So … why is she having so much trouble with it? Maybe it has to do with that annoying Draco Malfoy, yammering in her ear all night





	One Wild Night

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of a fic from 2009. No edits.
> 
> Banner by Little Dollface.

 

Hermione nervously smoothed down her skirt as she was standing in front of the inconspicuous entrance. It had seemed like a good skirt to wear earlier, but now it seemed too short. Or maybe it wasn't that it was short; maybe it was that it looked a lot tighter when she stood still and it clung to her legs. Or maybe both of those things didn't matter, considering that it was so ...  _thin_.

She'd also thrown the 'legs or cleavage, never both' advice to the wind. Maybe she shouldn't have. Maybe she risked coming off as more of a tart than she really was with the 'jewel green' top that had seemed so much nicer earlier than it did now with its ruffled sleeves, low front and even lower back. She had had to cast a spell on it to keep it in place. Why had the necessity of spell-casting not tipped her off that this was a bad idea?

But at least it was green. Ron hated green for all sorts of juvenile reasons and he'd always managed to stomp on her joy of anything with that colour.

Well, tonight she didn't have to care about that. Tonight she would be free. She owed it to herself.

Straightening her back, she finally found the courage to enter the Leaky Cauldron. She'd been here many times before, of course, but never this late on a Friday night. She figured this might not be the  _last_  place she went tonight, but for a  _first_  place, she'd thought it would be all right. She honestly didn't know of many other places to go.

The place was darker and dodgier-looking than she remembered, and it was also much more crowded than she ever remembered seeing it before. Every table was filled with people talking, laughing, arguing ... and suddenly she realised she was alone. The realisation made her hang on to her handbag for dear life, clutching it to her midsection. Maybe there would be someone she knew among the witches and wizards cramped together, but she'd much rather not know if there were. She didn't want anyone to  _know_  what she was doing.

Suddenly her mission seemed stupid and sort of childish.

She really needed a drink.

First things first, however. She needed to find somewhere to sit down as she could hardly stand by the door all night. Tentatively, she moved into the room, doing a quick scan of each table as she went past, trying to not see the patrons’ faces, but just focusing on her first priority: Finding an empty chair!

Finally, at the very back of the room, she saw a chair at a small table with what was actually an almost perfect view of the room. Praying that the occupant wasn't just in the loo, she moved over to the chair, asking, "Is this seat taken?" while still scanning for any other potential chairs if it were.

"It is now," a pleasantly low voice murmured.

Feeling she should recognise the voice, Hermione finally looked down and got the shock of her life. She would know that pale face anywhere. It wasn't quite as gaunt as it had been the last time she'd laid eyes on it in person, but she had gone to school with him for six years, enduring his constant jabs, so unfortunately there was no doubt. This was either Draco Malfoy or his long lost twin. His eyes had only just made it to her face, it seemed, because they as well widened slightly in surprise. Then they narrowed in thought. Great. This was just what she needed -- for  _Draco Malfoy_  to know that she was trawling for ... well.

He was now wearing a somewhat amused look and making some kind of gesture. "Well, what are you waiting for, Granger? You wanted to sit, didn't you? Then sit."

"This is not what it looks like," she said in her prissiest voice.

"Oh?" he said, rather carelessly looking her over again. "So you  _aren't_  out looking for trouble, then? Love the colour, by the way."

Hermione's cheeks coloured slightly. Damn it. She'd known the clothes were over the top. Maybe she could make some minor changes without anyone noticing .... "It's none of your business," she said, sitting down as there really wasn't another chair to be had in this entire place. It was rather ironic, wasn't it? She was desperate for courage to go through with this and she landed at the table of the  _one_  person who was least likely to help her on that score.

Or maybe it wasn't that ironic. Maybe saner people would just much rather stand around the bar than sit near his unpleasant self.

He shrugged at her unfriendly statement, not looking as if he was overly concerned one way or the other. "Hey, what you're up to is bound to harm your relationship with Weasley, right? That would in turn hurt your relationship with Potter since he's so wrapped up in that family, and in the end you'll all be miserable. That makes me happy, so carry on."

Hermione cocked her head. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a spiteful git?" she asked.

"Yes, that's happened once or twice. I think they want to take your order now."

Hermione looked up to find a server at her elbow. "Oh!" she said, feeling a little flustered. "I'll have, um, what he's having!" She eyed Malfoy's drink. Well, whatever it was, it didn't look too toxic. It had a rather appealing deep colour, actually, and it definitely wasn't in a wine glass, so she assumed it was stronger.

"Do you even  _know_  what I'm having?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He sniggered. "This'll be a fun night. So, tell me what you're looking for in a bloke and I might be able to help you out."

She was quiet as her drink was being served, but then very clearly replied, "I don't think so."

He shot her a surprised and disgusted look. "Not like that! But I come here more often than you do and can help you ... evaluate your prospects." He sniggered again for no apparent reason.

"Why were you helping me, again?" she asked, scowling at him. He seemed just a  _little_  too pleased with the whole idea.

"I already told you. To cause chaos and mayhem."

"Right." She gave him a very sceptical look.

He rolled his eyes. "All right, I'm bloody bored, ok? Watching you attempt to play the seductress beats doing nothing."

Ok, she could buy that. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't really interested in an audience. "I don't think you can help," she informed him. "So why don't you just mind your own business?"

"Ok, fine." He raised the hand that wasn't currently nursing his drink as if in surrender. "Have fun with your little quest."

He turned away, effectively leaving her alone and that was how she felt again. Alone. She nervously glanced around. How  _did_  one figure out who might be a suitable target for this? As crowded as the place was, nobody stood out as someone it would be a  _good_  idea to approach. How would she even know if they were open to suggestions? It would be rather embarrassing to walk up to some wizard and find out he was married or maybe just not interested.

She stared down at her hands in her lap, her drink still untouched. This wasn't as easy as she'd thought. Maybe she should just go home.

"The wizard over there, by the bar, to the left," Malfoy's voice said near her ear, making her jump. She hadn't noticed he'd moved his chair closer. "He comes in here sometimes. He's always by himself, so I don't think you have to worry about him being attached."

She glanced at the wizard Malfoy was pointing out to her and found that he was, in fact, looking back at her. Blushing, she quickly looked back down at the hands in her lap. Merlin, she wasn't ready for this. "And why are you telling me this?" she asked Malfoy.

"You looked like you were going to give up. I thought that would be a terrible, terrible waste." He smirked and took another swig of his drink.

"Well ...." She glanced at the wizard again and he raised his drink to her. She offered him a vague smile and then turned back to Malfoy. "Not him."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Don't get too picky now, Granger. What's wrong with this one?"

"He has this weird ...  _moustache_ ," Hermione objected. "I can't kiss that thing!"

"So now you need kissing, too?" He sighed. "Fine. There's one over there, as well. He should be up to your standards."

Hermione looked at the other wizard but again she quickly returned her eyes to her lap. "No."

"And what's wrong with that one?"

"Too handsome."

He didn't make any attempt to hide his stare. " _Too_  ...? Now you're just being difficult."

She glared at him. "I know that you'd like nothing better than for me to be rejected by some wizard, but I know my  _exact_  worth and my  _exact_  limitations, and when we're talking one-night things, wizards like that look for witches like ..." She looked up and then snorted as she saw that a very pretty witch had already approach the too-handsome wizard. She made a movement with her hand. "... that!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's not  _about_  that, Granger. Mostly, it's just about getting laid. When everyone's had a few drinks and is desperate for a shag, the only thing that really registers is  _confidence_. If you have the attitude to pull it off, nobody really cares about the rest. It's not like you have to look at each other in the morning."

"Wow, thanks," she drily commented. She didn't really expect much from Malfoy, but had he just come out and called her ugly? She knew for a fact that she was not. She knew that tonight she was even well above average. She just wasn't  _quite_  in that one wizard's league.

But that was his way, wasn't it? Find anything he could to insult her with. Even if it were a gross exaggeration.

He snorted but didn't offer any better praise than that. Instead he said, "I suggest you drink up and try again."

*** * ***

A couple of drinks later, Hermione felt better about herself. Not that she'd felt exactly  _bad_  before, but she was further beyond caring and the anticipation had all of her nerve endings tingling. She liked that feeling. Malfoy seemed to notice how her nerves had settled, because he said, "Good. Now, how about  _that_  wizard? No strange moustache, but he doesn't look likely to end up on  _Witch Weekly_ 's  _Special Pages_. And before you think you're being clever by questioning my sexuality for knowing about those pages, I'd better tell you that I've been featured there myself."

Hermione closed her mouth, pouting a little at being declined the easy dig. "Must have been on a better day," she muttered to herself and then giggled for a second before she remembered herself and stopped. Whoa, that was odd. Why had she done that?

"I'm rich," he pointed out, having obviously heard her, "I don't need to be good-looking too. But you didn't even look at the bloke."

She supposed Malfoy didn't need to be handsome to get what he wanted in this world. But she also supposed that if she didn't  _know_  what an absolute git he was and if he didn't open his mouth at all, he wouldn't be too bad-looking. Not that she'd ever  _tell_  him that. She suspected that the merest hint of a pat on the shoulder would have him become completely insufferable and force her to abandon her chair. She couldn't abandon her chair. It was  _the_ chair! She needed it!

After a cursory glance at the wizard he'd pointed out, she said, "Nah."

He frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. "But why not?"

"There has to be  _heat_ ," she insisted. "An attraction.  _Something_. When I look at him, I get nothing." Well, nothing that wasn't there already, at least. She had plenty of heat on her own, but when she looked at that wizard, she just couldn't imagine sharing it with him. If she couldn't look at the bloke and imagine him taking her hard and fast somewhere, then what was the whole point?

Malfoy wearily rubbed his face. "And how will you know if there is  _heat_  without even talking to anyone? And, even more importantly, how do you know you'll get it from anyone at all?"

"Well ... there's a lot of people here. I should easily be attracted to  _someone_  and then I'll do it." Hermione really wouldn't know how to casually chat up someone and then casually leave them behind again if she changed her mind. It would be much too awkward for her peace of mind.

He snorted at her. "You're not really going to do this at all, are you?"

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're Hermione Granger, the most annoying swot Hogwarts has ever seen; the bestest female friend of the one and only Harry Potter; one of the biggest war heroines; not to mention destined to marry Ron Weasley, no matter what she currently seems to believe." He delivered his list with a sarcastic voice and a tilt to his lips that made her think that he didn't mean any of this in a  _good_  way.

"I intend to do this!"

"Go home, little girl. This scene is not for you." He took another swig of his glass.

"First of all," Hermione growled, quite sick of being patronized by someone who was drinking alone, "I was the oldest in our year and calling someone older than yourself 'little girl' is just weird. Second of all, if I didn't intend to do this, why didn't I wear knickers? It's quite frankly rather cold outside and it's ... well ... unhygienic!"

He stared at her for a second. "No knickers?"

"No knickers." Her cheeks heated. Come to think of it, maybe this was over-sharing. She wouldn't normally have told him that. Why  _had_  she told him? She didn't think she was that drunk ... but she'd just  _felt_  like it. Why would she feel like telling Malfoy she wasn't wearing any knickers? Did she really have that much of a wish to be ridiculed? And why did she have this incredibly odd feeling that everything was going to be all right?

"I don't believe you," he said with a dismissive shrug.

"Why would I lie about  _that_?" For a second Hermione forgot about her embarrassment and other strange feelings as his accusation boggled her mind.

"To seem interesting. Boring girls do it all the time."

She sighed irritably and grabbed the edge of her skirt, making sure to keep her essentials covered while pulling it up to reveal the side of her thigh and hip all the way up to her waist. "See? Nothing there. Now can we please stop this nonsense?"

Malfoy stared and Hermione realised what she was doing. Her cheeks flushed crimson and she dropped her skirt down again. Had she just flashed a whole lot of bare skin to Draco Malfoy? Not to mention anyone in the vicinity looking their way? Oh, Merlin. Not good. Not good at all. Apparently, she had a lower alcohol tolerance than she'd thought.

Although, the slightly dazed quality of Malfoy’s look was actually bolstering her confidence just a little bit. If she could make  _him_  notice that she was a female, then the rest of the room should be a piece of cake.

He cleared his throat. "Ok. Fine. You're not wearing any knickers. But why the hell not?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "I figured they'd just get in the way or I'd lose them or something. Besides, it makes me feel different."

"So you truly do intend to do this?" Malfoy asked. "You do realise that Weasley is part of a very traditional family in a very traditional part of society? He's not easily going to forgive and forget."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. Way to kill her newly-found positivity. Wait, that wasn't a word! Was it? Oh, who the hell cared anyway .... "It's annoying how you seem to keep assuming that I want him to," she just replied, taking another sip of her drink. It was surprisingly tasty for something that effective. It was probably expensive too. Oh, well.

"Right," Malfoy said with one of those annoying sardonic smirks. "Well, then I can't wait to see what you come up with!"

Hermione swallowed. Yeah, she couldn't wait either. She hadn't really thought much further than showing up and doing the deed. There was a whole series of steps she seemed to have missed while thinking about this at home.

"Don't over-think it," he said, apparently reading her thoughts. "If you don't see anything you like, then just have a few more drinks and it's suddenly not so bad."

Easy for him to say! "Speaking from experience, are you?" she taunted.

"I don't need to pick up witches at a pub!" he indignantly replied.

"Who does?" Hermione shot back. Then she motioned for the server. This  _was_  going to take more drinks. Not only did she apparently need to put up with conversing with Malfoy, but working up her nerve to chat up some wizard, heat or no heat, really wasn't as easy as she'd initially thought.

*** * ***

"Hey, ease up or you're going to get sick," a not-too-concerned-sounding Malfoy was saying some time later.

Hermione lowered her glass. She supposed he was right. The room was a bit blurry and too sudden movements made her queasy. Maybe she should wait a little bit before having more to drink. The whole  _point_  of tonight was frantic movements, after all. God, she couldn't help for that point to be driven home again and again and again and again .... How long was it, it took the body to get one drink out of the system? A half hour? An hour? And how many had she had by now? She frowned, trying to remember, but had to admit she'd lost count. That probably wasn't good.

But she felt so nicely warm and tingly all over. She wanted to purr with sheer pleasure. Even Malfoy didn't seem like that much of a git anymore -- he actually seemed rather friendly ... considering who he was.

"So, any of them looking good yet?" he asked, his voice coming from somewhere further away than his body.

Draco Malfoy, the ventriloquist? The thought made her giggle.

"Ok, why don't we hold off on the liquid courage for a little bit?" he asked, removing the glass from her hands.

"That ... that may be a good idea," she agreed. "It's not very effective anyway. I still don't feel like ripping anyone's clothes off." Or, rather, she did, but no one's in particular. And the thought of ending up with no one at all depressed her. She felt like she'd die if she didn't have anyone inside her tonight. It did seem a bit harder to keep any single thought in her head, though. And sometimes she'd have a thought and then forget what it was about before she'd even finished thinking it.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her remark. That seemed to be an annoying habit of his. Although not half as annoying as him looking down her shirt. Ok, she wasn't actually annoyed by that, more like amused. And flattered. Not that it was all that flattering for a bloke to look at woman's chest since that seemed to be genetically coded into them, but the way his eyes kept returning seemed to suggest she had something worth looking at. Wait, what was it that annoyed her, again? She frowned. Damn. Another thought lost forever. It had probably been important too!

"Why are you even doing this?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, I still think you should do it -- even if you need to be passed out in order to go through with it -- but ... why?"

Hermione's face heated. Damn him. "That's ... personal."

"It doesn't get much more personal than sex," he drily replied. "What's the matter? Does Weasley have a tiny willy?"

Hermione snorted a giggle before she could help herself. No, that was not funny! Why was she laughing? Damn alcohol. "No," she choked out around the laugh she refused to let out.

"Aw," he said, looking a tad disappointed. "No action, then? Or maybe too quick action? Or too loose action?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Loose action?"

"You seem the sort that might take revenge on a cheating fiancé."

"Oh. No. No cheating. No to the rest of what you said and ...  _no fiancé_."

She refused to be saddened by that last statement. She'd made her own bed and she intended to not only lie in it, but to make sure that the sheets got nicely rumpled. God, it had been too long since her sheets had been rumpled. She really wanted to do a thorough job of rumpling them. Even the wizard with the moustache was starting to look good. Malfoy had been right about the drinks helping on that score.

"Aww, that's right. I keep forgetting. You broke up. How sad." Malfoy's tone of voice was anything but sad, mocking her.

"Does that make you any less obsessed with getting me into bed with some random wizard?" she asked, taking back her drink from him and knocking it back in one swift motion.

"No." He didn't make any effort to keep the glass from her but just watched her curiously. "Weasley is still going to mind. Whatever squabble you two are having will probably be over soon and then he will mind. A lot."

"Squabble," she said, feeling a little less drunk and a lot more annoyed than she had before. "Squabble? You think I'd go out looking for someone else to sleep with after a mere  _squabble_  with Ron?"

He didn't reply. "So this is a rebound thing, then?"

"No. It's something I want to do." She bit her lip, glancing at the men at the nearest few tables. It really  _was_  something she wanted to do ... in theory. But it was a very, very theoretic theory.

"To ease your itch?"

"No!" She sighed irritably, fed up with Malfoy's stupid guesses. "Because I  _need_  to. Because ...." She searched her foggy brain for a way to explain it. "Because I always needed to do this." Not that she didn't have an itch. She really, really did. And the longer she drew it out, the more it just seemed to grow. In fact, she was squirming just a tiny bit in her seat. It wasn’t the  _point_ , though. If it were only an itch, she could have taken care of it herself. Or she could have stayed with Ron and let him take care of it.

Malfoy frowned slowly, making her realise that maybe he'd had a little too much to drink as well, and said, "You always needed to go into a seedy bar and have sex with a random wizard?" He snorted a short laugh. "Knowing that would have made our time at Hogwarts more fun. You should have told me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and signalled for a refill. Once again, she was beginning to feel too sober to deal with him  _and_  work up her courage to chat someone up. Maybe she should suggest to the owner of the pub that they started carrying some sort of courage potion. She was sure they'd make a fortune off of that.

*** * ***

"Aren't  _you_  going to get sick if you don't ease up?" Hermione asked a little later, glancing at Malfoy's drink. She hadn't counted his drinks, but she was fairly sure he was well ahead of her and that any attempt on her part to try to keep up would be disastrous.

He sniggered. "I appreciate your concern, but I know my limits. Haven't reached them yet and won't for a while. Although the side-effects are going to be interesting."

"Why are you here, drinking alone, anyway?" Hermione asked before her brains could catch up with her mouth. To give Brains credit, they were being very actively tripped, tied up and held down by their foe, Alcohol.

"Well," he slowly said. "I woke up this morning, and I thought, 'What will I do tonight?' and then I decided that I would go to the Leaky Cauldron because I might get the chance to see Weasley's  _ex_ -fiancée attempt to get laid by someone who will neither have an impressive moustache nor be  _too_  handsome."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's not very forthcoming."

"It was a rude question, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "When people are drinking alone, you might want to try a bit more finesse when asking them why."

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. I showed you mine, so show me yours." She sniggered at her own almost-innuendo. Alcohol really had a poor influence on her sense of humour. Maybe Sense of Humour was trying to save Brains. Wait, that made no sense. What quality was doing what again and why was that a bad thing?

"You did not show me yours!" he objected. "Your reasons were vague at best. You  _needed_  to do this? What? Weasley just wasn't good enough for you for no reason at all?"

Hermione went quiet inside out. It was as if her mind was afraid to think about this particular subject in any way. Or maybe Brains had just permanently vacated the premises. "Something like that," she softly said.

"That's bollocks," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "You gave up a serious relationship to be with a stranger? You're going to be  _so_  disappointed. I almost feel sorry for you."

"Hey, I need more than love, I need  _sex_!"

She cringed. It could have been worse, she supposed. She could have made an embarrassing exclamation to someone who loved to ridicule her -- while wearing a funny hat! Oh, where was Sense of Humour when she needed it so?

True to form, he laughed at her. "I knew he couldn't get it done!"

She scowled. "You're missing the point."

"No, I'm not." He beamed, ever happy to believe something bad about Ron. "Your lover was bad in the sack and now you're desperate."

Hermione irritably sighed. She supposed she'd better set him straight. "Ron could  _get it done_  just fine and there was nothing bad about it. He just wasn't interested in ... that is, he wasn't very adventurous, all right? I tried and I tried. For years I tried. But there's only so many times a witch can show herself in a kinky outfit, getting very little response, before she gets discouraged."

The beam gave way to a thoughtful look on Malfoy's face. "When you say  _kinky outfit_  ...."

"And that's not  _all_  I tried," she continued, oblivious to what he was saying. "I mean, I can't even begin to  _catalogue_  all the toys I bought, both of wizard and Muggle variety."

He blinked as if dazed by her statement. "Toys?"

"Yeah, you know," she said and made a dismissive wave, "restraints of different kinds, artificial body parts, visual aids, things that buzz and rub and generally feel good when used in the right or occasionally the wrong places." Things that were likely to be employed tonight if she didn't find someone to help her out  _soon_.

Judging from the look Malfoy shot her, he seemed to have guessed that very thing all on his own. "Uh-huh." He swallowed and didn't seem able to say much more than that.

Was it really that strange to learn that she had wants and needs and  _fantasies_? Just because he might find her thirst for knowledge boring, didn't mean that he had to assume that she only liked to have sex using the missionary position with the lights off.

Or maybe it did. He probably didn't even think she was capable of reaching orgasm. Git. She was perfectly willing  _and_  able, she just couldn't find a wizard to do the job in any manner that could be called exciting!

"In any case," she said, sighing, "Ron had no interest in any of that. He just wanted to make love the old-fashioned way, maybe once or twice a week, with only the two of us and no toys or outfits, and while it was by all accounts nice, it just wasn't ...."

"Enough?" he hoarsely suggested.

"Yes! I know I should probably have been able to let it go, but I wasn't. I mean, he didn't even want me to suck him off!"

Malfoy's eyes widened in renewed shock. "Huh?"

Hah! She’d bet almost anything that he’d always figured she would be too prissy to  _want_  to suck anyone off. Oh, she’d wanted. She had just been thwarted.

She shook her head, remembering the hurt and discouragement. "I read a book about it and thought it looked like fun and I'm  _sure_  I did it right, but he didn't react like I'd hoped at all. He let me for a bit but ... it was obvious he didn't think it was that interesting. He ... he even admitted as much afterwards." She cleared her throat and forced back the tears that threatened, feeling silly about getting all emotional about old issues. It was just such a sore spot with her. And she was probably a pathetic drunk too. "You don't know what it's like, Malfoy. To have all these desires and not even feel ...  _wanted_. I know he always loved me, but he sure didn't seem to  _want_  me. Not in a physical way."

She shouldn't have told him that, Hermione realised through the alcohol haze a few seconds later when Malfoy hadn't responded at all, but was just looking thoughtfully into his glass. He was just going to laugh at her again and she was still too torn up over all the fights and the rejections and the final great row that had been the death blow to her relationship with Ron. It had led her here and she was going to go through with this even if it killed her. She didn't even care anymore if people would think her a slag. She just needed  _more_. She needed to feel  _wanted_  and  _satisfied_  for once. It wasn't just about having an orgasm, it was about  _being fucked_!

Malfoy finally looked up at her, but then he looked down at his half-empty drink again and cleared his throat. "This may come as a shock to you, Granger, but lust can get old too after a while," he said, strangely not seeming that amused by her admission of rejection.

Funny. He could have gone in for the kill, so why didn't he? She probably shouldn't ask him that. "I thought you didn't have to have one-night-stands," she pointed out instead.

"I don't. I was talking about my girlfriend ... um, ex-girlfriend ... ah, it's complicated." He frowned at the table.

"You broke up but you're still shagging?" Hermione guessed.

"Ok, maybe not that complicated," he muttered. "Anyway, we can barely stand the sight of each other. Never could. Yet we still tend to end up in bed together. In fact, that's why we stayed together for so long. We'd never be able to finish an argument without somehow ending up screwing. There's plenty of passion, but it drains the life out of you. Having a nice,  _calm_  relationship sounds rather good to me, actually."

" _Calm_  is good," Hermione conceded, "but ours felt almost platonic! We were just ... glorified friends with the occasional very basic benefits. It was a deep, loving,  _boring_  relationship. I get love from a lot of people.  _Sex_  I'm only supposed to get from that special someone, so why wouldn't he give it to me? What's so hard about getting a little adventurous with your significant other every once in a while? I mean, I wasn't asking him to do anything terribly out of the ordinary, just ... show a little more enthusiasm. What's so wrong about that?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think that he might be more passionate with someone that isn't me?" she quietly asked, hoping for a little reassurance since he wasn’t openly mocking her but actually sharing this strangely open conversation with her. She was  _pretty_  tonight! She knew she looked a lot different than he remembered, with her hair made up nicely, make-up that accentuated her best features, not to mention her revealing clothes. He had to have noticed something more than her breasts and her missing knickers.

"I don't know," he said, lifting his glass to his lips again. "Maybe."

Hermione tried to not let the words hurt her. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting. You think I'm ugly and undesirable." She snorted and readjusted one charm-stickied shoulder of her shirt in order to do  _something_. Her self-confidence was damn near squashed again. Maybe she just wasn't the kind of witch that men really wanted.

He looked at her for a few seconds, but then addressed his drink as he spoke. In fact, come to think of it, he seemed to avoid looking at her face and she couldn't recall him looking her in the eyes for at least a half hour. Maybe her breasts were just that much more fascinating. "That's not it, exactly," he said. "But sometimes you just can't help who you respond to. Genitals aren't very smart." He made a grimace that  _could_  have been a self-deprecating smile.

No, genitals weren't smart, she supposed. But they sure were opinionated at times. Even now she still desperately wanted to have sex with someone,  _anyone_. If anything, she wanted it even more than when she arrived earlier. She even suspected that her cheeks were getting flushed from all the heat coursing through her veins. Fortunately, it was rather hot in here and there was a fair amount of flushed cheeks and glassy eyes in the room so she didn't stand out too much.

"Is your ex the reason you're here tonight?" It had just slipped out, but Hermione decided she really wanted to know. She didn't care whether it was a rude question. She had shared, now it was Malfoy's turn. Maybe then she could have some time to work up the courage to go face potential rejection. Why did Malfoy have to be such a git? Why couldn't he just say she looked nice? She needed another drink.

He shrugged carelessly. "Not in the way you probably think," he replied to her question. "I just had a bad day and thought I'd get a few drinks before having to deal with her, but then I stuck around because your inability to get laid was more fun."

And he just had to rub it in, didn't he? "Sleeping with someone you hate is worse than sleeping with a stranger," she pointed out.

"Why? I already know the sex is going to be good. With a stranger, you don't have that assurance. Mostly, it's just all right."

"And how do you know that?"

He sighed. "I haven't been a virgin for years, Granger. A couple of times in the past I've let a gold digger think she had me." He made a grimace that was something between a smirk and a sneer. "Always the same damn thing, isn't it?"

Hermione wouldn't know since she hardly knew what he was referring to, but she supposed he was right if he said so.

Malfoy raised his glass to her with a strange little smile. "Here's to you getting the sex you want and to me just getting through the night with my sanity intact!"

*** * ***

"How about that witch?" Hermione asked, pointing to a pretty dark-haired witch at the other end of the room. Malfoy and she hadn't spoken for a while but suddenly this suggestion had seemed like such a good idea to make. And why the hell shouldn't she?

Malfoy did a double-take. "Why, Granger, I had no idea!"

"No!" she hurriedly exclaimed. "I mean, sure, if I were dating someone and he wanted--" She cut off and bit her lip, blushing. She probably didn't need to tell him about those fantasies. "I  _meant_  for you."

"I told you that I don't need to pick someone up. As soon as I'm done here, I'll just Apparate to my ex's place, assuming I can still stand. She'll be annoyed at the intrusion and then punish me by bonking my brains out."

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "You shouldn't Apparate while intoxicated. It's not safe."

He snorted. "How magna-- ... magni-- ... big of you to consider my safety. I'll be fine."

"And, besides, you can't keep going back to something that's so twisted and unhealthy. That other witch might help you keep your sanity intact. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

He shot her a quick glance. "Yeah, um, Granger? I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to  _fix_  me. Especially since you don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"I'm not trying to fix you."

"Then fix my life. Whatever. Stop it."

"You know it's going to wear you down," she insisted, sure she had the right of it and too inebriated to care what he thought of her having such a strong opinion.

"No. What I know is that you came in here, claiming you  _needed_  to get laid by one of those blokes, but so far you haven't done anything to make it happen and sitting around, waiting for it, is getting dull."

"You're right," Hermione said, allowing for the change of subject and getting up before she could change her mind. "You're absolutely right. I need to do something about this and not just sit here, drowning my sorrows with someone who’d rather sleep with someone he hates than take a chance on someone new. Is anyone looking interested?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he opened it again to say, "I thought you wanted  _heat_."

"Well, maybe I'm drunk enough not to care!" Or desperate enough. She sure was randy enough. She was now at a point where even the way the fabric of her clothes was caressing her when she moved was driving her out of her mind. She glanced around the room, desperately hoping for  _anyone_  to look interested.

Malfoy rubbed his face with one hand, looking weary. "Just walk up to any single male, Granger. They're not going to say no."

"Maybe they're not looking for sex." She bit her lower lip again.

"You don't have to be  _looking_  for it to  _appreciate_  it and hot, fast, no-strings sex is just about every bloke's wet dream." He was looking annoyed with her. How come  _he_  got to be  _annoyed_  with  _her_?

"You're contradicting yourself. You said  _you_  weren't interested in that just a minute ago," she pointed out, congratulating herself for being able to reason so well at this level of intoxication and randiness. Was randiness even a word? She didn’t care.

"I said I wasn't going to look for it. If it offered itself ...." He shook his head with a sarcastic grimace. "Just go already."

"Right," Hermione muttered, taking the first very insecure step.

Her vision zoomed in on a wizard who was looking appreciatively at her. He was decent-looking by all accounts. Trying to ignore her own nervous jitters, she pasted on a smile and walked over to him.

*** * ***

Hermione plonked down in her chair and sighed heavily.

"So, what happened?" Malfoy asked, looking strangely despondent at her return. Great. Not that she'd expected him to rejoice at her company, but he could at least be less pessimistic about it. Oh, wait, was that a sarcastic smirk? Lovely. He seemed to have found his humour at her rejection. Why didn't she just go drink a vial of poison and get it over with?

"I forgot my handbag," she very lamely said.

"Happens to me all the time when I'm trying to get laid."

"It was all I could think about when talking to him," she said, trying to explain. "That I'd left my handbag here. With you. And I didn't know if you were just going to leave it here, and it has my keys and my purse and the book I'm currently reading ...."

"A book?"

"I shrunk it."

"Who brings a  _book_  to a  _pub_?" He shook his head. "You know, never mind. Your handbag is safe. You can just take it with you now."

"No!" she said, feeling close to tears from sheer frustration. "I can't. I can't do it. After all this trouble and everything I sacrificed, I can't even go through with it. I don't know how to be that aggressive and convincing. I don't know how to be that confident."

He stared at her. "You think  _you_  don't know how to be  _confident_?"

Not when it mattered, apparently. She felt stupid. And queasy. "I should probably just go home, right? Like you said?"

He was still staring at her and she expected him to say, ' _Yes, go on home. You don't have what it takes,'_  when instead he said, "No. Stay."

The low, hoarse tone of his voice did something to her insides and she looked up at him not even trying to hide her misery. "Why? What's the point?"

He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but then moved so close to her he didn't have to raise his voice at all for her to hear him. "You should stop looking for points. When you do this ... the point is only what feels good in the here and now. Anything else is over-thinking it."

"Staying wouldn't feel good." She looked down and began picking at her handbag, unwilling to explain her statement. She could hardly tell him that her body was on fire and she was so frustrated she could weep, and that time spent here was time not soothing that maddening itch and ... she just wanted to go home.

"It could," he softly said.

She looked up in surprise at his tone of voice. Did he mean ...?

"Would it really be that bad?" he asked. "You may not truly want to sleep with a stranger, but I'm not really a stranger, am I? And I know how you feel. You need it."

Heat was flaring in his eyes and she felt an answering tightening in her abdomen as images of the two of them in various indecent poses flashed before her eyes. She just hadn't thought ... hadn't imagined ... that  _they_  could .... Right now it was a very appealing thought, though, very appealing. They'd been talking all night so she felt relaxed around him and that way he was currently looking at her ... oh, yes. But ... he was  _Draco Malfoy_. Wouldn't an entanglement with him just be a date with disaster?

When she didn't reply right off because she was too busy trying to find her tongue, his eyes dropped to her lips and he bent forward, closing the gap between them. Her eyes widened and her first instinct was to pull back, but his hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place.

This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening.

Her second instinct was to close her eyes and forget that it was wrong. She felt a little dizzy, but assumed it was from the alcohol, and her heart pounding was probably just the excitement. The tingles in her belly and extremities were most definitely from the anticipation, which had built ever since she first decided to do this. The anticipation was also to blame for the sheer explosion of sensations she was experiencing from his lips moving over hers, she was sure. When he felt her becoming pliant, his hand fell away, granting her the freedom to move. His lips coaxed hers apart with sneakily delicious caresses and then his tongue begged entrance and began caressing hers in a way that had her every nerve ending screaming for the same kind of attention.

And it was aggressive in a way that could lead a witch to think she was wanted.

Yeah, right.

She struggled free. "What are you doing?" Had he thought this was what she'd wanted when she'd come back?  _Had_  this been what she’d wanted? No, she was fairly sure she hadn’t thought he might suggest  _they_  had sex  _together_ and then  _snog_  her _._ She’d just ... she didn’t even know. She should probably just have left, but their conversations tonight had felt almost  _nice_. She'd wanted him to comfort her.

Did this count as comforting?

"Shut up," he murmured. "Just ... shut up. I can give you what you want, but only if you stop  _talking._ "

He grabbed her hand and before her alcohol-befuddled brains could think of any objections to make, he'd pulled her to her feet and was dragging her towards the bar. He must know the bartender better than she'd thought, because a couple of words later, he opened a door she'd never noticed and dragged her through it before shutting it behind them and pressing her up against it. Judging from the dimly lit narrow stairs going down beyond the landing, this was leading to some kind of storage area.

"You sure are friendly with the barkeeper," she nervously remarked. It felt good to be pressed against someone. Her body didn't seem to care who it was, it just tightened in anticipation. She was already teetering on the edge for  _no_  apparent reason and just needed a nudge to go over. God, she wanted him to do this, but she was still too apprehensive to just take charge. This was  _Malfoy_  for crying out loud. Since when did he want to sleep with her?

"Naw, not friendly," he murmured, breathing against her neck, sending tingles to her breasts and between her legs just with his damn  _breath_. She closed her eyes. "The man just doesn't care as long as he gets paid," he continued.

"If you were going to pay, then why didn't you just get a room?" she breathlessly asked. It was hard to try to stay lucid when every time he made the slightest movement he was brushing against her  _somewhere_  making her want to scream and, Merlin, she  _needed_  this.

"Don't tell me that a bed was what you wanted." She could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk. “There are people right on the other side of this door. A lot of people. And unless you’re really, really quiet, they’re all going to  _know_.”

Hermione swallowed. This was actually very closely resembling what she'd wanted. "You don't have to do this," she muttered, having difficulties staying focused as he was now running his lips up her neck. "I don't need a pity fuck."

Except she maybe sort of did. She just knew that she'd be mortified once she could again think clearly and realised that she'd let Draco Malfoy take pity on her for her extremely poor ability to find someone else to have sex with.

"You've  _got_  to be kidding me," he growled, looking down her. "You're too smart to be serious. You know that you left very little to the imagination when you yanked up that skirt of yours. Not to mention the prize view you've been giving me of your cleavage all night. And all that talk about sex and toys and knowing what you came there for .... Just live out your fantasy. It'll be fine."

Hermione decided to believe him. What was the worst that could happen? Ok, best not to go there.

He pressed his thigh between her legs and it felt so good she actually gasped and threw her head back. He apparently saw this as an invitation, because she felt his lips moving to hers. She willingly parted her lips in answer, inviting him in, wondering how her whole mouth could feel so sensitive. She quickly forgot to wonder, though, when he leaned in further, inadvertently pressing his thigh more firmly between her legs, rubbing her a little. She whimpered and grabbed his arms, greedily deepening the kiss, and pressing her breasts against him to ease some of that tingle as well.

Apparently, he got her not-so-subtle appreciation of the movement, because he repeated it, and it felt just as good this time. And then again. And again. It only took Hermione seconds before she was rubbing back against his thigh to ease the tension, but it wasn't enough, it simply wasn't enough. Her movements became more and more frantic and she vaguely thought she heard a strangled groan from him and then the orgasm slammed into her, making her cry out in sheer surprise with the force of it. Never had she felt anything quite like it. Every inch of her was vibrating and her entire body was jerking. It felt amazing in a slightly scary way.

After her body finally calmed down, she slowly opened her eyes, which had been squeezed shut, and saw that his eyes were shut as well and he was seemingly trying to force himself to breathe more calmly. She remembered there being something about breaths in the book about tantric sex she'd tried to interest Ron in one time. Even though this was hardly tantric, maybe she could benefit from trying to calm down a bit herself.

Even if it were too late to prevent making a complete spectacle of herself.

"I'm-I'm sorry," she nervously stuttered. "I don't know what came over me."

One edge of his mouth quirked and he opened his eyes. "I believe that was an orgasm ...."

She blushed. "I meant why I did that. Rubbing against you like some ... teenager in a Hogwarts broom cupboard."

"I have it on good authority that a lot of adults also appreciate rubbing," he muttered, still seeming a little amused.

"Yeah, but you didn't come here to be rubbed against, did you?" she asked, beginning to resent his amusement.

"I quite liked it actually. And we're not finished yet, are we?" he murmured in her ear.

No, they weren't finished yet. In spite of her powerful orgasm and subsequent embarrassment she was still quite ready to jump his bones.

She fumbled a bit to find her wand and removed the spell on her top. Immediately, both sleeves slid down her arms, leaving her feeling very naked but also strangely pleased about that feeling. He made an appreciative sound and hoisted her up on his hips before he bent down and began kissing the skin right above her breasts, tugging a little at her shirt fabric so it slid all the way to her waist, before he took as much of one breast as he could into his mouth.

Hermione gasped as wet warmth assaulted her and his tongue began stroking her nipple, making her vision go black for a second. "It makes no sense," she whispered. "Alcohol makes one feel  _less_ , so why do I feel so sensitive?"

Malfoy raised his head. "I told you to stop talking, Granger," he admonished.

She reached out to remove his shirt, button by excruciating button, and, then, as a few seconds later she could finally run her hands over his naked, pale chest, she said, "Remember, I'm not wearing any knickers." She wasn’t sure why she said that, but it seemed like just the kind of naughty reminder she was supposed to make.

It had more of an effect than she could have hoped for. With a few quite inventive mumbled descriptions of her personality, he reached down between her legs to feel for himself. “Why, so you aren’t,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, as his fingers lightly brushed her overly sensitive nub, making her gasp and dig her fingers into his shoulders. She knew she was very wet and she could tell from the way his jaw clenched and unclenched that he very much liked that.

His fingers danced down lower and then, quite suddenly, his mouth covered hers again and he kissed her deeply as a couple of his fingers slipped deep inside of her. She bucked, but there was no escaping the intensity of him touching her  _inside_. She came again, her muscles clamping around those accursed blessed fingers. He kept them still until she calmed, and then he quickly removed them, intent written all over his face. After a few very precise movements he had opened his trousers without letting her down, and she could feel his naked flesh pressing against her.

She was really, really glad that she'd decided not to wear any knickers tonight.

He bent down and whispered in her ear, "This is where a nicer bloke would give you the opportunity to reconsider, to stop if you wanted to before any real harm was done. But you've had many of those opportunities tonight. Now it's too late. I won't be stopped so don't even think about being a tease or regretting this halfway through. I  _will_  get what you've been teasing me with all night. We’re not stopping until it's done."

Hermione whimpered. The progressive equal-rights fighter in her should probably object to being addressed this way, but the much larger part of her that was ruled by her hormones just loved the prospect of being possessed by a male driven by pure unadulterated lust.

Without further ado, he drove into her, making her see stars from the sheer pleasure of being filled like this. If she had been less wet, she was sure he would have hurt her, but she wasn't and he didn't. He moaned as if he was in pain himself, his fingers digging into her thighs, bruising her. She squirmed a little to get more friction and then found she could use her leg muscles to move against him.

"Granger!" he gasped, but she ignored him. She had a very specific goal in mind. She had no idea how it was even possible, but tonight it seemed anything could happen. And there it was, just, it wouldn't take long to ....

She cried out again and thrashed as another orgasm washed over her, hitting her head on the door but not caring very much. The same urgency that had come over her seemed to possess Malfoy, because he groaned and almost violently continued the rhythm she'd set for a few more thrusts and then made an almost desperate sound, pressing deep into her.

She sagged a little against him, enjoying the feel of his pleasure, but feeling a little sorry that it was over so soon. She could have gone all night. Maybe those toys at home would still see some use.

She was insatiable, it seemed.

She unwrapped her legs and pushed slightly against him so she could slide down to her feet.

"Oh, no, you don't," he hoarsely muttered and then resumed moving. "I told you; we're finishing this."

On one hand, Hermione was very confused. She could have  _sworn_  that he'd just come. On the other hand, it felt brilliant to have him moving inside of her and she didn't really care how or why. He reached down between their bodies, again lightly touching her, and it made all the difference in the world. Within minutes, she came again, even harder than before, whimpering into his neck. She'd never felt anything as good as this and she didn't want him to ever stop moving even if she wasn't sure she could handle another orgasm. She would be  _so_  sore in the morning.

"If you aren't quieter, they'll probably hear you out there," he rasped, sounding strained. "There really  _are_  people right on the other side of this door, you know ...."

"I don't care. Don't stop."

He bent a bit so he could kiss her again, and she eagerly accepted, enjoying any stimulation she could get. "I might have to sooner than I'd like," he admitted against her lips. "Granger ...."

"Yes?"

His eyes were rolling back and his grip was tightening again. Those bruises really would be spectacular. "I probably should have told you ... before ...."

"Told me what?" she was feeling breathless again. The way he was pounding against her, she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for days, but it felt so  _good_! She was coming again, she could feel it. She dug her nails into his shoulders. Never had it happened so many times so fast on top of each other before. She'd always thought it physically impossible. She didn't even care why it was happening. This was the best kind of sex she'd  _ever_  had!

"The drink ..." he muttered against her hair once she could hear again, "it had an added magical aphrodisiac. I ... I thought it would be funny to see how you ... but drinking it myself bit me in the arse. God, I'm going to explode."

Hermione's eyes widened, but it was too hard for her to process such information right now when her traitorous body just wanted to be kissed, caressed and taken over and over again. She couldn't stop from reacting to the way he was spiralling out of control, the way he was coming ... again. Because that's what he had meant, right? That they were both insatiable because of what they'd been drinking? And so he  _had_  actually come before but, like her, just didn't feel like letting it stop him?

It didn't matter, because she was climaxing again, too.

This was crazy.

He was gasping against her neck and then winced slightly. "Never came so hard it hurt before," he muttered with a low laugh. "I don't think those amounts are safe ...."

That's when it hit her. He was  _only_  having sex with her because of the aphrodisiac, wasn't he? Her body was still throbbing for more in spite of the -- four, was it? Or five? Six, maybe? -- orgasms she'd already had. The level of need was artificial, sure, but at least she'd wanted this all along. He'd needed a damn near extreme level of some drug -- which  _was_  probably dangerous -- in order to even consider it.

"Then we should probably stop," she said, the coolness of her voice surprising even herself. Malfoy looked stunned as well. "I mean, sure, you could probably come a couple more times, but if the aphrodisiac is making it already painful, then why risk injury?"

He studied her face with a frown for a few seconds before responding. "I can handle myself, don't worry. The intensity just threw me a little."

"No, really. I insist," she said, pushing against him, not wanting him this close to her anymore. Her body was pulsing around him, beckoning him to continue and if he were to live up to what he'd said earlier, he  _would_. And part of her wanted him to. But the part of her that needed to hold on to just a tiny bit of self-respect didn't.

He looked down her body, the heat that still remained in his eyes clearly telling her that he didn't want to stop at all, but then he seemed to change his mind and abruptly put her down and stepped back, leaving her feeling empty and cold. She scrambled to cover up a bit before  _she_  could change her mind, but even fully clothed she felt naked.

He did up his trousers, and then just looked at her, a hard look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in years. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "It's really good of you to consider my health." He obviously didn't buy it. And quite possibly he was frustrated because he’d had to stop while he was still hard.

"If ... if I'd known about the aphrodisiac, I'd have acted differently," she offered. "All in all you've been fairly decent to me tonight. Merlin, I probably  _needed_  someone to slip me something in order to get anywhere. I'm just sorry that ... I'm just sorry." She blindly fumbled for the doorknob and then fled, feeling the burn of humiliation.

Now she knew what felt worse than a pity fuck: A pity fuck where the wizard just couldn't summon the inclination to do it without overdosing them both on enhancers.

*** * ***

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and yawned. Her bed was nice and warm and she didn't want to leave it. Something was teasing at the edge of her memory, though. Like a dream she could almost remember. What was it? Oh, right! She dimly recalled it now. She'd gone out to find a bit of sexual adventure and had ended up sleeping with  _Draco Malfoy_. Right. The mind really thought up the strangest things sometimes. She hadn't thought about Draco Malfoy in ages and now she dreamt she had wild sex with him? Interesting.

She stretched and gasped with the sudden painful stinging and dull throbbing on her thighs and between her legs. What the ...?

Her mind froze. No, it couldn't be!

She very carefully got out of bed and then, in front of the mirror, pulled down her pyjama bottoms.

Apparently, it could be. The middle of her thighs had several red marks, suspiciously shaped like someone had dug their fingers into them in the heat of passion. She didn't think dreams could be  _that_  vivid. Besides, now it was all coming back to her in great detail.

Bugger.

Now that she truly remembered, the burning humiliation returned. She even had the added embarrassment of recalling how she'd run off, all hurt and offended, when, really, what did she have to be offended about? She'd gotten her one-night-stand.

Malfoy had actually been  _very_  obliging when it came down to it.

She really just wished he had never told her about the aphrodisiac involved. She would have felt so much happier thinking that, for once, a wizard had  _truly_  wanted her with an all-consuming passion. Even if it were a ridiculously exaggerated experience.

But it wasn't his job to make her happy, was it?

It didn't matter, though. She'd lived her fantasy and she'd realised that she wasn't the sort that knew how to have sex with strangers. Hell, Malfoy hadn't even really been a stranger. Maybe everyone was right and she'd actually had it much better with Ron than she'd thought. True, she'd never had five or more mind-blowing orgasms in a row with him, but maybe it was time to put her obsession with sex aside and concentrate on something real. Time to be an adult. Like Ron had always wanted.

There was a knock on her door.

With a weary sigh, Hermione pulled up her bottoms and went to answer it. It was probably her landlady, here to complain about the hours that Hermione kept. She really did need a new place with less curious people around. Or maybe she needed to move back in with Ron. Because he certainly would be  _thrilled_  to learn that she'd slept with Malfoy.

But then again, he didn't need to know that, did he?

When she opened the door, however, it wasn't the landlady. "Malfoy?" she said with a frown. "Did you ... forget something?" She mentally stuffed away her embarrassment at being seen by him in her pyjamas and with morning hair. That was the least of her worries today.

"Yes," he said, looking a tad bit worried himself. "Yesterday, I was so ... um, far gone that I forgot to  _use_  anything. Will that be an issue?"

"Ah." Hermione's shoulders sagged a little as she felt inexplicably disappointed. It was a valid concern. A little  _late_  to consider, but valid. "No, don't worry. I didn't go unprepared."

His face cleared. "I knew I could count on you!"

Yes, wasn't she just the dependable one? "You didn't have to come here this early in the morning for that."

He looked slightly amused. "Granger, it's two o'clock."

Really? Well, in her defence, she'd had a long night. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You still didn't need to come here."

"I know." His gaze flickered slightly. "I was just wondering ... if maybe you'd like to go get a drink later."

Hermione's jaw dropped. " _What_?"

He put on a condescending look that Hermione had come to recognise as a mask and said, "I know I went easy on you yesterday, but I wasn't  _done_."

"No," she drily commented. "Of course you weren't. Since when has anyone been done after  _only_  ... was it twice?"

"Three times, actually," he said with an unapologetic shrug. "You just didn't notice the first time. I got as overly excited as you did. The first few times always happen rather quickly under the influence of Ambrosia."

"Oh,  _three_  times, that makes it better."

"I've easily come five times before using this, and with the amount I had last night, who knows how many times I could have come before I passed out or became too sore to go on? But that's still not the point."

"What  _is_  the point then?"

He leaned against her doorframe. "Apart from me not being done, you mean? I have a dungeon."

"What?"

"You've seen it, I believe?” he said as if he weren’t confusing the hell out of her. “It's a real dungeon. With chains. And shackles. I was thinking about how I never realised its true potential ...."

A dungeon did sound oddly fun, but he couldn't really be suggesting that  _they_  ...?

"And in a couple of weeks I'm hosting this Ministry event on my grounds. I think your department was even invited to it."

Hermione blinked. Damn, he was right. "Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten all about that. My superiors are making me go." That could get awkward ....

He snorted. "Everyone's superiors are making them go. It's one of those things nobody  _wants_  to go to. Hell, I don't even want to go and it's my event! But right next to the party there's a rather dense private forest with a hidden path to a clearing that is  _very_  close to the dullness yet unlikely to be discovered."

Hermione swallowed. Outside? Ron had  _never_  wanted to do it outside. Hermione loved the trees and the grass and the flowers and she would have loved to make love there, but no matter how secluded they'd been, she had never been able to convince him to do it.

"As for tonight ... there's this pub down in Knockturn Alley. Its glasses are dirty and its clientele is dirtier, but I think you may like its back alley. I'll show it to you."

An alley? He would have sex with her in an alley? Why had nobody ever told her that sexual relationships could be so ... interesting? And scary. She shifted her position a little and winced at the burn. It certainly was physically wearing. "I can't. I'm sore."

His eyes darkened with anger. "Weak excuse, Granger. You and I both know that can be treated within the hour. If you can't handle sleeping with me sober, then just say so. Then I will find someone who can. It's not really going to be that difficult."

Hermione frowned. Was it honestly that odd that she had problems looking at him, sober, in daylight, no aphrodisiacs to make her lose her mind, and imagining them doing very naughty things indeed? "You don't think it's weird at all?"

"No, I don't  _care_ ," he growled. "I just want mind-blowing sex and I was of the impression that you wanted the same thing. But maybe you've had enough? Maybe you weren't as interested in exploring as you let on and you are now already ready to go back to your Weasley. Is that it?" His eyes pierced hers.

He still hadn't actually entered her flat. She hadn't asked him in and he hadn't asked to be let in. He was just standing there, in the hallway, leaning against her doorframe, unabashedly talking about fantasies and asking if she still had hers. Her landlady was probably eavesdropping, and Hermione  _didn't even care_. She was looking into a pair of grey eyes that had always seemed so cold to her, and they were asking her if she wanted more mind-blowing sex or not. Did she ever! But ... with him? Sober? Did  _he_  really want that?

Then his last words registered and she blushed a little as the accusation that she was already ready to go back to Ron hit a little too close to home for comfort. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in exploring! She just wasn't very good at finding new people to do it with and she certainly hadn't thought Malfoy would show up here, but now he had and, well .... "It really  _is_  offensive how you keep assuming I'll end up with Wea-- uh, Ron again."

He smirked. "So far I see no evidence that you won't."

Except that she'd  _slept with_  Malfoy. And was considering doing it again. The kind of adventure he was offering really was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for her, but she knew that if she took it, she was unlikely to ever be able to go back to Ron again. Saying goodbye to the past was scary. She needed time to think! "Knockturn Alley, huh?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "I'll fulfil every fantasy you can think of and even introduce you to some new ones if you like, on three conditions."

Fantasy fulfilment sounded nice, but ... he had conditions now? "What?" she carefully asked. "Aphrodisiacs every time?" That would be one way for him to do it, she supposed ....

He shot her an exasperated look. "No, that might kill me. I spent half the night immersed in ice water, unable to feel my ... toes. No, first, I, unlike your Weasley,  _love_  to be sucked off and really want to see that busy mouth of yours get to work. That thought alone forced me to spend another hour in that damn icy water."

She swallowed, her mouth feeling strangely dry. "I guess that's reasonable." Another hour in the ice water, he'd said? Was that because of the aphrodisiacs or was it ... want? She wanted want! She'd be really happy and grateful if some want came her way.

And she'd make sure to let him know exactly how grateful she was. She was a  _really_  good student.

His lips quirked as if he knew the thought of what they could do together made her skin feel hot and tight. "Second, you mentioned an impressive collection of  _toys_. I want to try those."

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking of the big moving box in her bedroom. "All of them?" That could take some time! Not that she minded, but ... she figured he was the kind of wizard who might get bored easily.

He shrugged carelessly. "Anything Weasley didn't use.  _My_  need to explore has its limits. And third ...." He uttered a weary sigh. "A bed. Just every once in a while."

She frowned, considering that. "Like, renting a room?"

"No. I mean, sure, yes. But sometimes I want to be somewhere I can pass out without having to worry about leaving until I feel like it. You  _do_  have a bed, don't you, Granger?" There he went, mocking her again.

"I do, but we can't use it. I'm not allowed to have wizards sleeping over." He shot her an incredulous look and she blushed and muttered, "Didn't seem like an issue at the time." She'd just needed a new place to stay quickly and she hadn't even considered that she might want to have anyone sleeping over before she found a better place.

"Fine," he said, rather reluctantly. "I guess I have about a dozen beds."

"But none you'd want me to sleep in," she concluded. Now she knew him again. She had never deluded herself into thinking that this was more than a purely physical arrangement he was proposing, but the fact that he didn't even want her near his bed stung. Did  _she_  really want to sleep with someone who thought so little of her on a personal level?

"My bed is ... mine,” he admitted. “I don't like to share it. With anyone. As long as that's not a problem, we can use the guest rooms."

Hermione shrugged, very slightly mollified from hearing that it wasn't just her he didn't want sullying his bed. "I don't really need to sleep over. But before I commit to anything, I have a few questions." If he could make demands so could she. And she just really needed to know one or two things.

He raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"First, what about your ex?" she asked. She might as well get that one over with. She wouldn't particularly care to have to book appointments in between other witches in order to get  _her_  needs seen to.

"Well ..." he said, drawing it out a bit. "If you're asking whether I'll still be seeing her, the answer is a relieved no, as I don't have the stamina for  _two_  of you and I'm quite glad to be rid of her. If you're asking how I go about telling her, I don't. She's already my ex and I don't owe her any explanations."

"It would be nice of you to send her an owl telling her you're ending the arrangement -- for now, at least.  _If_  we should do this."

"Nothing nice about me  _or_  her but if it'll shut you up, I can send her a note."

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Oh, she hadn't meant it would be a nice thing to do for  _his ex_ , but whatever. "Good. Second ... what happened?" She made another dry swallow and tried to ignore how her palms were becoming sweaty. Maybe she didn't want to know this.

"What happened when?"

She took a deep breath. "What happened to make you go from disdain to disinterest to artificial interest to ... here."

"Disinterest? Artificial interest?"

"Yeah, you know. The part between me sitting down and you dragging me over to the wine cellar or whatever that was and having intensely enhanced sex with me."

He stayed quiet. It was a silence that made her uncomfortable.

"I mean, last night I  _understand_ ," she babbled, filling the silence. "You'd had a  _lot_  of those drinks and I know from myself that they were rather effective and I was a convenient outlet .... Is that why you're here? Because it was better than you'd thought and you'd rather have sex with anyone other than your ex? It's fine if that's the case, really, I just ... would like to  _know_."

It wasn't really  _that_  fine, but Hermione had long since acknowledged that she'd have to make great sacrifices if she wanted great sex. Yesterday, she'd learned that a big part of her self-esteem would be that sacrifice. That didn't mean she didn't think she could please him, though. She might not have  _sex appeal_ , but she'd make damn sure he found out just how quick a learner she was.

"Granger ..." Malfoy said with a reluctant sigh. "Ambrosia can't make you  _want_  anything you otherwise don't want. It just makes it easier and more enjoyable to go for what you  _do_  want."

"Right," she said, nodding. "Sex. You wanted it. A lot."

"Yes, but it'll do absolutely nothing to make it easier to sleep with anyone you don't really want to sleep with in the first place. You experienced this yourself as you didn't really manage to chat up any other wizard in the room. You didn't want to do it. You didn't  _want_  a stranger. I think you just thought that a stranger was the only way to get what you  _did_  want."

"And you're saying I wanted you?"

"On some level," he said with a careless shrug. "Probably because I felt safer than the alternatives. You know me. You know I'm a largely harmless git. And I wanted you because you kept moving in ways that  _clearly_  showed me that you're not used to wearing such low-cut tops and you kept talking about your sex life and  _outfits_  and  _toys_  and I couldn't help but try to imagine it all ...."

"You claimed you didn't want me!"

He sighed again and wearily rubbed his face. "Do you honestly expect me to remember exactly what was said? Yeah, I may have lied to you. I'm not an honest bloke. But the fact of the matter is that Ambrosia  _still_  can't make anyone do anything they aren't otherwise inclined to do. It just ... opens you up."

"Opens you up?" Hermione frowned. That sounded rather tricky.

"Yes. It makes it impossible to hold anything back. Nerves, fears ... those things don't matter anymore. What matters is what you  _want_. You just can't say no to it anymore. Some people can drink gallons of Ambrosia and still not get any pleasure from themselves or others, though, because they're simply incapable of it. They lack the natural inclination."

"Huh." Wouldn't that be something if the drink really worked that way?

"Hey, you like to read," he said, looking slightly annoyed with her reluctance to take his word for it. "Look it up!"

She just might do that. Because if what he said was true ... that would make her day -- or possibly even her  _year_.

"Ok, another question," she said, hiding the premature giddiness that she might be wanted after all. "You said it had never been so intense before. That it hurt. Or something to that effect. How did that work?"

"I'd never had those amounts of Ambrosia before," he said. "Frankly, it was uncomfortable. I was hard all night and sore as hell and then had three powerful orgasms in rapid succession, which still did nothing to help my condition. I think that you were probably right to stop me before I hurt myself and I don't think I ever want to consume as much of it as I did last night again. It was almost scary."

"I'm glad you thought so too," she muttered.

"Let's just try it the old-fashioned way, no enhancers. Hell, let's not even get drunk!"

He wanted her to have completely sober sex with him somewhere in Knockturn Alley tonight? "Wow, you must really want a change from your ex," she cautiously concluded.

"Yes, I do. But it's not her I've been thinking about all morning. Your bare leg with the skirt pulled all the way up to your waist ... now  _that_  image still stays with me. Along with the image of you coming against me, on me, around me .... I want to see how easy it is to do when you  _aren't_  influenced by anything. And how many times I can do it."

Hermione's heart began pounding and she swallowed. When he put it like  _that_  ....

"But," he added, "I guess you're going to have to decide if you really want to take the risk."

"The ... the risk?" she asked, frowning.

"Well, not so much a risk as a  _guaranteed_  negative side effect. We may have been spotted last night by someone who knows us. Or we may be spotted tonight. Or next time. At some point it will happen and it will get back to your friends. I'm not going to invest a whole lot of energy in keeping this thing a secret when neither of us are even married."

"Oh ...." She saw his point and didn't look forward that possible confrontation. "Oh! How about your family? Won't it get back to them?"

"They won't care."

"Won't they find it ... inappropriate? A danger to your lineage?"

He shrugged, looking almost bored. "Inappropriate, maybe. But they know I wouldn't bring a future Mrs Malfoy to places as vulgar as The Leaky Cauldron or anywhere Knockturn Alley has to offer. I certainly wouldn't have sex with her there."

"Oh, right. My bad," Hermione drily commented, not even that surprised at the reply. She was Muggleborn after all and Malfoy was ... well ... a mean git. It was good to be reminded of that. And maybe it was a wizard thing that passion didn't belong in a committed long-term relationship.

The whole 'Madonna or Whore' thing was getting really old.  _Fast_.

"I  _will_  try not to make it too hard for Weasley to eventually forgive you," he then said. She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off, "Don't pretend you aren't going to go back to him. We both know that this is just a phase. Once the sex is out of your system, you'll turn to the wizard that'll give you a family and a nice, cosy, boring, average existence. Weasley may not be very exciting, but you made up your mind a very long time ago to make a life with him, and you never struck me as someone whose mind was easily changed. I don't care, but just don't deny it. Do we have a deal?"

Hermione slowly closed her mouth. Maybe he was right that her mind had been made up. She  _did_  seem to have some trouble letting go of the idea of Ron. She  _was_  working on it, however. She had  _tried_  the relationship without passion and that hadn't worked for her. Now she was going to try the passion without relationship for a while because she needed it. But after that? She wasn't going back. She wanted  _both_ , damn it! And if there weren't a wizard in Britain to give it to her, then she would just have to associate more with Muggles.

Realising he was looking at her expectantly, she nodded. "Sure." She didn't have to tell him that he was wrong. It didn't matter. Maybe it made him feel safer to think that she wasn't completely free to be with whoever she wanted to. Maybe he needed this to be sure she wasn't going to fall for him. As if. Who in their right mind would fall for such an arse? Sleeping with him was one thing, but actually trusting a git like that not to hurt her? Nuh-uh. No way. Never. No orgasm would ever be  _that_  good.

He smirked and she chose to ignore how triumphant he looked. "Good. Get the soreness taken care of. Meet me at the entrance to Knockturn Alley -- never enter on your own at night -- at eight o'clock and wear knickers this time."

She raised her eyebrows. "I thought you liked it when I didn't."

He pushed away from the doorframe and turned to leave. "I also like trophies."

After he was gone, Hermione quietly closed the door. She had just agreed to a physical affair with Draco Malfoy.

She was probably in deep trouble now.

She'd been waiting for this kind of trouble for years.

She needed a new flat. And a sturdier bed.


End file.
